GRAY as the fog-wreaths over it blown When the surf beats high and the caves make moan, Stained with lichens and stormy weather The church and the scarred rocks rise together; And you scarce may tell, if a shadow falls, Which are the ledges and which the walls. By the sombre tower, when daylight dies, And dim as a cloud the horizon lies, I love to linger and watch the sails Turn to the harbor with freshening gales, Till yacht and dory and coaster bold Are moored as safe as a flock in fold. White Island lifts its ruddy shine High and clear o'er the weltering brine, And Boone and Portsmouth and far Cape Ann Flame the dusk of the deep to span, And the only sounds by the tower that be Are the wail of the wind and the wash of the sea. Gray as the fog-wreaths over it blown When the surf beats high and the caves make moan, Stained with lichens and stormy weather The church and the scarred rocks rise together; And you scarce may tell, if a shadow falls, Which are the ledges and which the walls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CORIDON'S SONG (IN ISAAK WALTON'S 'COMPLEAT ANGLER') by JOHN CHALKHILL LOVE TO THE CHURCH by TIMOTHY DWIGHT VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1880 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SOMETIME by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 7. LESSON FOR THE PROUD by T. BAKER MEDITATIONS IN GREAT BEALINGS CHURCH-YARD by BERNARD BARTON |